


baby, feel your way

by beastlyboop



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: "dancing lessons", Age Difference, F/M, Hand Job, No Condoms Allowed, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, fuckin while covered in money, gender-neutral dfab reader, request, set after S1E7 Double Dipper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastlyboop/pseuds/beastlyboop
Summary: At the end of the night you find yourself sweeping the floor room. The string lights leave the room dim and the music drones softly in the background but you find yourself swaying with it, in a dream, undisturbed, humming with each sweep of the broom. The party over, you volunteered to stay late to clean up, enjoying the opportunity to stretch your legs after selling tickets the whole night. Parties aren’t really your thing, but when everyone was having fun and you were left outside with nothing to do, you wouldn’t have minded coming in for a dance. Now you gently bob your head and spin a few times as you sweep, carefully creating little piles of confetti you’ll pick up later.A laugh from the other end of the room brings you back out of your head - you were sure you were alone but when you look up Stan stands there, leaning against the table, money in hand, watching you. You blush, caught off guard. He always seems to pop up when you least expect it.





	baby, feel your way

**Author's Note:**

> request was for stan teaching the reader how to dance
> 
> [on tumblr](https://beastlybutts.tumblr.com/post/140610400095/baby-feel-your-way-grunkle-stan-x-reader)

At the end of the night you find yourself sweeping the floor room. The string lights leave the room dim and the music drones softly in the background but you find yourself swaying with it, in a dream, undisturbed, humming with each sweep of the broom. The party over, you volunteered to stay late to clean up, enjoying the opportunity to stretch your legs after selling tickets the whole night. Parties aren’t really your thing, but when everyone was having fun and you were left outside with nothing to do, you wouldn’t have minded coming in for a dance. Now you gently bob your head and spin a few times as you sweep, carefully creating little piles of confetti you’ll pick up later.

A laugh from the other end of the room brings you back out of your head - you were sure you were alone but when you look up Stan stands there, leaning against the table, money in hand, watching you. You blush, caught off guard. He always seems to pop up when you least expect it.

“I thought you took the kids to bed!”

“I did. Had to come back, couldn’t miss the show,” he laughs, tucking the money into his shirt.

“Not much of a show,” you shake your head, smiling nonetheless, as you look back at the floor. What a funny old man. 

“I liked it.” He’s closer, now, and when you look back up he’s right in front of you. “But I think you’d do better with a partner, whadda ya say?”

You laugh, but he’s serious. “Oh, Stan, I don’t know. I can’t really dance..”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it, let me show ya,” he smiles, holding out his hand.

After a moment you shake your head, letting the broom fall to the floor and, smiling, you take his hand. He draws you closer to him, resting one hand on your lower back, and you place your own on his shoulder as leads you out into the middle of the room one step at a time, graceful. You try not to trip over your own feet or his as he pulls you closer, holding you against him, hips swaying with the music, he’s light on his feet, confident, doesn’t even have to look to see what he’s doing. He keeps his eyes on you.

You close you eyes, enjoying the closeness, even something as silly as this – the two of you haven’t had a lot of time to be alone together since the kids arrived, and while you love having them around, you miss these moments with Stan.

He pulls you away and, following his lead, you try to turn. You manage to get a half turn before you trip, catching yourself against his chest. You bury your face into the front of his shirt, feeling the cool metal of his medallion against your forehead.

“Come on, kid, I know you can do better than that.”

When you look up at him he’s smiling, always reassuring, and you sigh.

“One more time, I’ll show ya.”

You pull away, taking his hand, and he spins you out and brings you in, your back against his chest, your arms crossed. He holds both of your hands and you sway together, and you can’t help but smile. Letting your hands go, he grabs your hips.

“Move like this,” he says, softly, breathing into your ear. “Just like this.” You can hear the smile he’s wearing in his voice, his hands creeping up your sides, making you shudder. Up, farther, he raises your arms and leads them up and back until they’re around his head, your fingers resting in his hair, your head resting against the side of his.

When he’s got you where he wants you his hands find their way to the front of your shirt, fingers unbuttoning, finding their way inside, under your bra, and cupping your breasts. You can feel him, hard, grinding against you, his groans in your ear. You happily press yourself back against him, closing your eyes as he kisses the side of your neck, _Stan,_ you sigh.

“I missed ya, kid.”

You look up at him, as best you can, and catch his gaze, grinning. 

“Don’t get sentimental, now,” you laugh, pressing a kiss to the side of his stubbly face. He turns you around and presses his lips to yours, your hands reaching up to cup his face, and you sigh happily against him as he works at getting your pants off, slowly guiding you back. Eventually your legs hit the couch and, caught off guard, you fall back into it with a laugh.

“Stan! I thought I was gonna fall on my ass!”

Staring up at him, the dim light casts a soft glow around his head, and you grin, grabbing at his shirt as he leans over you, pulling him closer. He pulls off his belt and undoes his bell bottoms before falling onto the couch beside you, pulling you on top of him. You settle on his lap and he pulls your shirt off and your bra follows, both thrown away into the room - always so eager, you’d lost a couple of shirts like that, flung away in the heat of the moment.

You press yourself down against him, chest to chest, your arms around his shoulders, hands in his hair, knocking away his fez. When his mouth finds your neck you smile, sigh, _Stan,_ as he kisses at your collarbone, His hands on your back, they move to grab your ass.

“Don’t you worry, kid, I’d never let anything happen to it. I love it too much,” he says, the both of you laughing.

His hands slide down to your thighs, one moving to reach between your legs, fingers pressing up against you, through the thin material of your underwear. You gasp as he draws them up against the sensitive nub there before he pulls the material away, slipping underneath. You reach a hand down between the both of you and find the bulge of his cock beneath his boxers, pulling it free, drawing a groan against the side of your neck as you take it into your fist. His hips roll up into your hand as you slowly pump it up and down, teasing, your own thighs shaking against the hand between them, a finger easily slipping inside you as his thumb rubs circles against your clit.

After long you know you can’t take it any longer, by the gasps and groans he can’t contain you know he can’t either and you pull back, the both of you red in the face, warm, his eyes on you. His fingers leave you and he holds your underwear out of the way as you bring his cock toward you, positioning yourself over him, until you can feel him against your lips. They part as you lower yourself onto him, drawing a groan out of both of you.

When he’s inside of you, you let go, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, his hands on your ass, guiding you down. Slowly at first you raise yourself back up, moaning at the familiar feeling, being filled by him, his hands on you, his voice in your ears. When you’ve both found your rhythm he rocks his hips up against yours, his lips on your neck, your chest, finding your nipple. As he licks and sucks at the sensitive spot, you tangle your fingers in his hair, groaning his name, _Stan, oh, God,_ the slap of skin on skin filling the room.

You move together for several minutes, your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, electric, your legs trembling with the effort, each movement drawing whimpers from you, his breath hot and fast against your skin. He stops, pushes you off and for a moment you’re confused, until he shifts, lays you down next to him, onto your back on the couch, Stan still inside of you. You grab at the front of his shirt to steady yourself and manage to pull it open, the money inside spilling out onto your bare stomach and breasts. With your head against the arm rest, Stan holding one of your legs up on the side of the couch, the other falling off the front, and covered in a couple hundred dollars of cash, you laugh.

When you reach to try and brush it off, he grabs your wrist.

“No, leave it. You’ve never looked better, baby,” he grins, and you can’t help but smile back as he pulls your arm over your head. He thrusts back into you suddenly, his body pressing down against yours, his cock filling you completely, and you cry out, wrapping your leg around him. Your free hand slides between the both of you, fingers spreading your lips, feeling him moving in and out of you, your thumb massaging your clit. It’s only a matter of time until his groaning turns to grunts, _fuck, oh, fuck,_ and your name, always the last thing on his lips, your own orgasm rushing over you, _oh, fuck, stan, **fuck yes!**_

His hips buck against you before slowing, stopping, and he releases your wrist, catching himself against the couch, panting above you. When you catch your breath he slides out of you, tucks himself back into his boxers, drawing you up against him on the couch. You both sit there in the afterglow for a while before you gather your clothes, flip the couch cushions, and head back into the Shack.

In his room he collapses into bed and you follow, molding yourself around him, head on his chest, his fingers in your hair, his name on your lips.

You’ve missed this.


End file.
